Alarm
by storylover18
Summary: John is annoyed that Sherlock has decided to take a lazy day and makes it his mission to get Sherlock out of bed. Inspired by Jeremy Brett's interpretation of a Sherlock who is not a morning person, as well as a prompt by Prothoe. Pure fluff.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

**Hello, there! Just a quick one-shot that came to mind during a PM between myself and _Prothoe_ and partly inspired by a YouTube clip of Jeremy Brett as Sherlock. Let's just say that Sherlock, in that adaption, is not a morning person. I hope you enjoy – it's a really fluffy story but it's been a long week and a little fluff is good once and awhile. **

"Sherlock, it's after eleven o'clock."

John stood poised over Sherlock's motionless form, which was wrapped in a cocoon of sheets and blankets and positioned in such a way that John wondered how it was even humanly possible to contort the body that way.

"Are you alright?"

It was a bit unusual for Sherlock to be sleeping at all, much less sleeping this late in the day.

"Sherlock?"

Finally, Sherlock lifted the pillow from his head and squinted at John.

"What?"

"It's almost noon and you're still in bed."

"Is there a case?"

"No."

"Then go away."

Sherlock let his head fall again and it appeared that he was instantly asleep again. John straightened, wondering if he should be concerned. It wasn't normal and it wasn't healthy. Decided that it was high time for Sherlock to get up whether there was a case or not, John made it his mission to get Sherlock out of bed.

First, John tried opening all the blinds and turning on all the lights. The only response he got was Sherlock burrowing down further under his blankets, trying to block out the light.

John moved on to verbal motivators. He left the room (leaving the blinds open) and came running back a few minutes later.

"Sherlock, the flat is on fire!"

"No, it's not." Sherlock's mumbled voice came from out under the pillow.

John sulked out of the room, moving very quickly into verbal motivator number two. First, he filled his old army duffel with shoes and then let it roll down the stairs before running back to Sherlock's room.

"Mrs. Hudson just fell down the stairs! I need you to help me move her."

"No, she didn't. That was a duffel bag you filled with shoes. You had better move those before Mrs. Hudson trips on them."

John glared at the sleeping detective and left, making a point to pick up the shoes – Sherlock had a point. It wouldn't do anyone any good if Mrs. Hudson really did fall and break her good hip.

John then thought maybe Mrs. Hudson wasn't a good enough incentive to get out of bed – although he doubted it. If Mrs. Hudson really had fallen, Sherlock would've been the first one there and carried her to Bart's if necessary. Seeing as it was lunch time, John went into the kitchen and began chopping vegetables. He had just finished chopping when he wrapped his hand in the dishtowel before running back into Sherlock's room.

"Sherlock, I just sliced my hand open!"

"Wrong." At this point, Sherlock opened his eyes again and looked at John. "Why are you insistent on getting me out of bed?"

John let the towel fall.

"Because it's not normal. Getting too much sleep like this isn't healthy for you."

"I promise you I am fine, John."

"If you were fine, you'd be up and dressed."

In response, Sherlock simply let his head fall again and John rolled his eyes. However, he decided it best to just leave Sherlock be and he would be up and around soon. Surely he would have to get up at some point to eat, or, John realized, since Sherlock could go days without food, use the facilities.

By three o'clock Sherlock was still sleeping and John had had enough. He was completely annoyed with Sherlock, although he couldn't figure out why. Why did he care so much that he was sleeping late? John realized he needed to get out more – without Sherlock's antics to keep him busy, he felt his days were far too empty.

Although this realization provided an answer to his question, John still felt it was high time to get Sherlock out of bed. He had done everything short of physically pulling him out of bed save one cruel, nasty trick.

Wondering why he didn't feel any remorse about what he was going to do, John went to the kitchen and filled a tall glass with cold water. He went into Sherlock's room, which was growing dark (so much time had passed that the open blinds were now letting in the late afternoon shadows, which seemed to make the room seem darker rather than lighter).

"Sherlock, if you don't get out of bed for at least a few hours today, I will pour this over your head."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I will. Are you going to get up?" John held the glass precariously over Sherlock's head.

Sherlock pushed himself into a semi-sitting position, hair falling in his face. He was about to open his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the bell.

"Client?" he asked, looking at John, who was peering down at him.

"I'd better go check, seeing as you're not even dressed properly." John said, putting down the glass. By the time John was coming up the stairs, Sherlock was dressed in his usual suit and was making a pot of tea.

"Where's the client?" he asked, turning around.

"Wrong address. The man was looking for Mrs. Turner."

"Well, in that case," Sherlock said, placing the tea spoon on the cup saucer. "I am going back to bed. Good-night, John."

**I told you it was nothing but fluff. But regardless, feedback is always appreciated. **

**Oh, and if you're following my story, _Tainted_, I promise an update this weekend! **


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